


Favorites

by crossingwinter



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Newly established relationship, Trash triplets AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 09:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18092165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: In which Matt is preoccupied in getting Daisy the perfect token of his love on this, the two month anniversary of her agreeing to be his girlfriend.ATrash TripletsAU.





	Favorites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilithsaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithsaur/gifts).



> A belated happy birthday to the wonderfully talented and delightful lilithsaur. I hope you enjoy my dear <3
> 
> Thanks to kuresoto for taking a look at this!

“I need your help.”

“There’s something I haven’t heard before,” Ben snarks without looking up from his computer.

Matt ignores the dig. This is important.  

“Saturday is the two month anniversary of the day that Daisy agreed to be my girlfriend,” he tells his brother.  “I need to get her flowers.”

“So get her flowers.  Why do you need my help?” Ben asks.

Because of course he doesn’t get it.  “Did you hear me?” Matt’s trying very hard to keep his voice calm, and also not to sound like he’s explaining that two plus two equals four.  

“You want to get flowers for your girlfriend.  So get flowers for your girlfriend,” Ben shrugs.  He’s still not looking up from his computer. 

“But what  _ kind _ of flowers?”

 

-

 

Matt doesn’t make assumptions.  Matt has trained himself out of that.  He knows that the worst thing an engineer can do is to make assumptions.

So yes, it would be an assumption that Daisy likes daisies.  She’s got a sunny demeanor, and as  _ You’ve Got Mail  _ pointed out (the movie they watched on the two week anniversary of Daisy agreeing to be his girlfriend), daisies are such happy flowers.  

But that is an assumption.   That Daisy likes  _ You’ve Got Mail,  _ that it’s one of her favorite movies and the protagonist’s favorite flowers are daisies, that her name is  _ Daisy,  _ would lead to the conclusion that her favorite flower might be a daisy.  

But it also might not be.

She might hate daisies.

She might hate getting asked if she likes daisies, getting treated like a daisy.

And it’s the two month anniversary of the day that Daisy agreed to be his girlfriend.  

He’s not going to fuck it up by getting her daisies if she hates daisies.

 

-

 

“You could just ask her,” Kylo points out.  He’s bent over the counter, doing a crossword.  He probably doesn’t have to think about this ever.  Neither of them do, probably. Because neither of them care about—

“Look, it’s a silly stupid milestone, and you don’t have to have a reason to give her flowers.  Just give her flowers. They don’t have to be her favorite.”

No—they don’t understand at all.

 

-

 

He’s seen Daisy wear yellow, so she might like sunflowers.

He’s seen her wearing purple, too, though, and that brings in a whole smattering of options—lilacs, orchids, lupins.

“You could just do roses.  Roses scream romance, don’t they?” Ben had suggested lazily, not looking up from Starcraft.  

And yes, roses are romantic.  He will give her roses. Plenty of them.  But he wants to be able to just give her roses whenever he wants.  He wants to give her her  _ favorite _ flower for this.  He wants to show her how much she means to him.  He wants to go above and beyond normal romance, normal boyfriend stuff.

It’s the two month anniversary of when she agreed to be his girlfriend, after all.

 

-

 

“What are you going to do when it’s like...the one year anniversary?” Ben asks him as he puts on his coat.

(“You’re going to ask Kira, right?” Matt had asked for about the fortieth time.

“Yes.”

“And you’ll be subtle?”

“She probably won’t know.  Do you really think she cares about favorite flowers?”

“Ben you promised.”)

“Yeah,” Kylo agrees, “Don’t want to put it all out there on the field too soon there, tiger.”

Matt stares at his brothers and tries very hard not to get a nosebleed.

 

-

 

He doesn’t think he’s putting too much out there on the field too soon.  

For their one year, he’ll be more overtly romantic.  He’ll plan a nice long date, walk through the park if it’s nice out, a movie cuddled on the couch if it’s raining.  He’ll cook her dinner—in a picnic basket if it’s out in the park, in her kitchen if it’s raining. He’ll write her a poem.  He’d never been very good at creative writing, never very good at his English lit classes, so he’s already practicing because he’s only got ten months left to write the perfect romantic poem.  He’ll tell her that he loves her, and kiss her until she’s got stars in her eyes.

Then they’ll make love (inside, if the park is a go.  They don’t want to get arrested for public indecency on their one year anniversary) and when they’re done, he’ll hold her while she falls asleep, keeping her safe and warm and loved in his arms.

 

-

 

He waits all of two hours before texting him.

_ Well? _

_ Well what?   _

_ Flowers? _

_ Kira doesn’t know. _

_ She also thinks you’re overthinking this. _

Matt rolls his eyes.  

If Ben hadn’t understood, he certainly hadn’t expected Kira to.  Kira likes to make fun of him, but he has never doubted that she loves Daisy, and would want what’s best for Daisy.  So he turns his attention to Kylo instead.

_ Rey didn’t mention anything about flowers, did she? _

_ She said that Daisy loves all flowers and you should do what your heart tells you. _

_ That’s helpful. _

_ Rey’s great like that. _

_ I was being sarcastic. _

_ I wasn’t.  My girlfriend is perfect and you should respect her. _

_ Just get Daisy some damn flowers.  She’ll love them because she loves you. _

That makes Matt gulp.  

She  _ does _ love him.  She’s said so, peeking up at him from under the frames of her glasses.

That’s  _ precisely _ why any flower won’t do and it has to be her favorite.

Unless…

 

-

 

The botanical garden.  That’s what he decides—for their one year.  They’ll have a picnic in the botanical garden.  It’ll be late spring, and so everything will be green and wonderful.  They’ll sit in the asiatic section, because it’s got a nice little lake with frogs that gulp and hop, and they’ll eat Daisy’s favorite meal.

He’s got time to figure out what that is.  He won’t make the same mistake twice and get caught unprepared ever again.

 

-

 

Matt doesn’t make assumptions, but when he doesn’t have enough data, he has to account for all possibilities.  So maybe he spends a little too much money on the flowers. It’s not  _ his _ fault that the florist sells them in bundles and won’t give him one of each, so he has to get a whole lot of bundles.  That’s a flaw in the system is what it is.

He waits on Daisy’s doorstep, his arms full of cellophane-encased flowers.  The plastic is slippery, and they’re dripping a little bit of water down their stems and onto his shoes.  “One second!” he hears Daisy calling. He hears the banging of some sort of metal, hears quick footsteps, and Daisy throws the door open, her apron still on her face dripping with sweat.  Her eyes go wide when she sees him.

“I got you flowers,” Matt says, jerking his arms towards her.  “I didn’t know which ones were your favorite so I got them all.”

Daisy blinks a few times and then her eyes go bright and she gives him the sweetest smile.  “Let’s get them in water,” she says. “Do you need help?”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer before grabbing several bunches of flowers and leading him into her house.  

Her house which is full of every single baked good Matt can imagine.  There are cinnamon buns, there are cookies, muffins, no fewer than three pies.  And fresh from the oven, he thinks he sees some scones.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” she said.  “And your brothers are  _ wildly _ unhelpful.  So I made...I made a few things.”  She flushes. “I hope you like them.

Matt stares at her.  

He doesn’t know what to say.  He loves her so much, loves the way she’s blushing pinker and pinker as she looks at him.  She’s  _ perfect _ .

“I love them,” he says.  “I love all of them.”

Daisy doesn’t have enough vases for the flowers, so they put some in her water glasses too.  They save several water glasses for drinking water, though, and dig through her recycling and rinse out old plastic yogurt containers and fill them with flowers.  By the time they’re done, her living room is filled with flowers and baked goods and smells better than anything Matt’s ever smelled in his life.

Well, that’s not totally true.

They smell almost as good as Daisy.

 

-

 

Daisy smells like lavender some days, and like roses on other days.  He noticed before they started dating. She puts little essential oil drops on her pulse points.  “They help me focus,” she tells him. “They help me motivate.”

Daisy’s motivation is unlike anything else.  Sometimes he thinks she’s powered by the sun because she’s always got energy, especially on sunny days.  Maybe it’s the essential oils. He likes those.

She smells wonderful.  He knows he’s not supposed to think his colleague smells good.  That’s against protocol, there are HR regulations about it, and god knows he doesn’t want Daisy to think he values her for her attraction and not her mind.  She’s one of the best engineers on the team.

And she smells so nice.

Even when she hasn’t put on little drops of essential oil, even—or perhaps especially?—when they’ve been up all night because of a bad deploy and it’s an all-hands-on-deck sort of thing.

She smells good when she’s been baking, smells good when she’s smiling, just…

Matt doesn’t like breaking rules, breaking protocols.  He doesn’t like doing things that could get him into trouble.  Those are his brothers. But Daisy makes him want to throw all the rules out the window for the first time in his life.

 

-

 

Matt hadn’t planned much beyond the flowers for this particular anniversary.  The flowers had already almost undone him. So he hadn’t really figured out what they’d do after the flowers were in the water, after the final pie was out of the oven.

It’s sunny outside, and he’s about to suggest going on a walk, because Daisy loves the sunshine, when Daisy grabs him and leads him to the couch and straddles him, the long braid she’s tied into her hair falling over her shoulder as she leans down to kiss him.

They’ve gotten way better at kissing in the past two months.  Their noses barely knock together, now, and their glasses don’t bump around too much either.  They do take the glasses off, though. They both have good enough vision for  _ this _ .

Matt’s breath comes out of his mouth in uneven bursts as Daisy kisses her way along his neck, as her hands massage his scalp.  And he can’t say he planned it when his hands come up to the clasp over her overalls and he pulls them both loose and lets the front flap start to dangle down so that he can begin to cup her breasts lightly through her shirt.

They’ve gone exactly this far before—him caressing her through her clothes, her grinding against his growing erection.  This is as far as they’ve gone before. This is charted territory.

Which is why his lungs stop working when she tugs her shirt up over her head, revealing a floral print bra that she also does away with and his cock is straining in his jeans.  Daisy is beautiful as she looks down at him, her beautiful braid dangling between her—between—

They’re small and beautiful.  Her nipples are tight little buds, a dusty deep rose against her flushed skin.  She guides his hands to them and they’re warm, and soft, and Matt groans, and sits up and begins to tug his own shirt up over his head.  Daisy’s seen his chest before—they’d gone to the beach two weeks before, and she’d spent most of the time staring at it when she thought he wasn’t looking—and now, when she bends to kiss him again, they’re chest to chest, heart to heart.

Matt hadn’t actually planned for their pants to come off.  He’d told himself two days into their relationship that he’d be ready for her when she was ready for him.  (He hadn’t let himself wonder if he was too frightened to initiate, if he was too nervous to.) But off they come—with a little bit of inelegant wiggling as they pull their legs free.  Pants come off, and underpants and before he even really knows what’s happening, Daisy’s whispering, “You want to?” in to his ear and who has he ever been to deny her anything? So he gulps, and nods, and she kisses him, and pumps his cock in her hands as she tries to guide him into her.

It comes in spurts.

No, wait. 

Not like that.   _ Not like that _ .

The way that he sinks into her—he can feel each tentative inch, the way she’s taking deep breaths as she eases onto him, the way he can feel her stretching around him.  His eyes roll into the back of his head, but he doesn’t close them. He never wants to forget her like this, hovering over him, determined love blazing in her eyes as she takes him in.  He never wants to forget this, the way she looks, the smell of the room around them when at last her rhythm regulates and they gasp their way into something that feels like it might just be everything.

 

-

 

“You’ve got crumbs,” Daisy grins, and a moment later her thumb is brushing the corner of his mouth.  

“I think you’re wasting them,” he tells her.  She’s cuddled against his side, and they’ve eaten their way through several cinnamon buns—her glaze is to die for—and he’s just had some of her shortbread cookies.  

“Waste not want not?” Daisy breathes and a moment later she’s not so much kissing him as licking the crumbs off the side of his mouth.

He catches her lips with his and she sighs and snuggles against him more.

“These are delicious,” he tells her for perhaps the eightieth time.

“I’m glad you like them.”  A pause, and then she flushes a little bit.  “What are your favorites? So I know for next time?”

Matt blinks at her.  He’d say shortbread now, except he is remembering those cinnamon buns, and the apple pie on the coffee table smells amazing.

“I like anything you make.”

She kisses him again, and he asks, “What are your favorite flowers?”

She lets out a huffy laugh and he can taste everything in her breath—them, her baking, the flowers all around them.  

“Daisies.”


End file.
